


Essential Actions

by CKBookish



Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Aunt lois - Freeform, Bruce is not doing so good in the parent department, But this series is about growth, Christmas Blues, Clark Kent is the best, Dick Grayson is Fired, Dick's first Christmas without Bruce, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Okay he's an idiot, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Protective Clark Kent, Protective Lois Lane, UNCLE CLARK, Wally West is a Good Friend, broken family dynamics, no editing we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Clark shifted his weight making the floorboards creak and groan under his feet. “Dick I hate to see you--” He paused searching for the right word.Dick snorted.  “Wallow?”Clark sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say.”“I know.  I can go to the barn and hang out there if I’m bothering you and Lois.” Dick pushed himself up.  Of course he should have thought of that.  Lois didn’t want some random teen laying around her home on Christmas Eve.Dick's first Christmas without Bruce after he's fired.  Set in my Hard Truths and Other Realities seriesCan be read as a stand alone fic
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson and Clark Kent, Dick Grayson and Lois Lane, Dick Grayson and Wally West
Series: Hard Truths and Other Realities [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752508
Comments: 93
Kudos: 437
Collections: Series that I want to read once they are complete





	1. To Stand Still

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I've got no Idea how long to make this. We have two options. It might be a two shot, or maybe I'll do different years of Christmas for the series. Let me know what you think. There is a least one more chapter coming for this story. I know I know it's June, but I feel what I feel when I feel it. 
> 
> Also I've given up putting these in chronological order. so I'll put the timeline in the series description. 
> 
> As always I treasure every comment and kudos!

I'm in a relationship with amber 

Stuck. Frozen. Suspended.

I wonder, does the mosquito question too, will I ever be free?

* * *

Dick could feel the weight of Clark’s gaze as he stood over him. But at the moment he didn’t really care. He lay, his arm draped dramatically over his eyes, sprawled across the sofa. The soft sounds of cows mooing and chickens clucking fluttered in from the open window. Dick wondered where Lois had gone. He had heard her swearing at the vacuum cleaner upstairs earlier, but that had been hours ago. 

Perhaps it was she who sent Clark in to deal with the depressing mess in the living room that was Dick Grayson. He had done his best to stay out of the way and be useful during his stint at the Kent’s. While she certainly went out of her way to make him feel welcome, he wondered sometimes if Lois was sick of him. She never let him do much-- she was not on her deathbed or so she would declare whenever Dick tried to do anything for her. Then Clark, of course, was constantly assuring him that they loved having him but perhaps Christmas was too far. 

The Kents were their own family unit and he was infringing on it. What was Dick to them? At best he was an odd nephew; at worst an obligation that fell into their laps. 

Maybe he should've taken Wally’s offer to go with him to the annual West bash, but the idea of having to sit through whispers and nervous looks from people who didn’t know was too much. 

Two mouths he had been in this state of uncertainty. It had been two months since his whole world was turned upside-- again. Clark had been more patient than Dick deserved. He’d helped organize his early graduation from Gotham Academy-- Dick had had enough credits to graduate half way through his junior year. Clark told him patiently a half dozen times that he could stay with them forever. 

Though Dick liked the farm, there was an ache that made it feel… incomplete. Perhaps it was his lack of direction. He’d always had one. He had been a Flying Grayson from the moment he was born, then he’d been Robin. Now, he was neither. 

He wasn’t someone's son, or partner. He wasn’t even a student, he wasn’t an athlete or hero. What was worse he didn’t know what part he missed more.

Both Clark and Wally kept asking him what he wanted to be. 

“The World’s your oyster!” Clark would declare at least once a week.

Wally had been slightly more cynical, which Dick somehow took comfort in, the normalcy of it all. While Clark and he had always been close, Dick had Bruce to counterbalance the potency of Superman’s optimism. Wally-- bless him-- was perhaps his only unchanged relationship. Clark was now his caretaker in perhaps an unofficial way, but Wally was still just his best friend. 

He had threatened to come out of retirement to beat Bruce senseless at least five times. He took Dick to get his stitches out. He sat with him and let him shout-- Dick tended to only cry around Clark. Wally took him out bowling, to movies, and football games. He took him on college campus tours. He even bought him an exorbitant amount of alcohol-- that Clark didn’t approve of but said nothing about. 

But Dick felt restless. He would go whole days not wanting to talk to anyone and others needing to have anyone near him. He would spend his nights staring listless out across the farm straining his ears for the sound of a fight that would never come. Out here there was only wind and cows. There was no mugging to stop, no villain to catch. 

No one needed him. 

So Dick was going to lay on this coach and wallow. He felt justified. 

Dick would be cheery tomorrow. He would smile at everyone and laugh too loudly at jokes when the rest of the Kent clan were there. Today, he was going to be over dramatic mopey and not talk to anyone. 

“Dick?” Clark, it seemed, had gathered enough courage to finally address him.

Dick hummed slightly but still didn’t look up.

“What about a quick flight? We could stop in Germany. I can hear a few markets still open there.”

“I'm not really feeling up to it.” Dick mumbled into his arm. 

Clark shifted his weight making the floorboards creak and groan under his feet. “Dick I hate to see you--” He paused searching for the right word.

Dick snorted. “Wallow?”

Clark sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“I know. I can go to the barn and hang out there if I’m bothering you and Lois.” Dick pushed himself up. Of course he should have thought of that. Lois didn’t want some random teen laying around her home on Christmas Eve. Clark’s sharp intake of breath caused him to still as he untangled his legs from the quit he had been under. 

“No. I just,” Clark sank down next to him on the old sofa. “I don’t like seeing you upset. You know that.”

Dick sniffed. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t mean to bring down the mood. I’ll make myself scarce. Don’t worry.”

A hand caught the back of his shirt, and pulled him back down when he tried to rise from his seat. “That’s not what I mean.”

Dick let the hand pull him further until he was leaning against Clark. “I know. I just don’t really feel like celebrating is all.”

“Yeah. That's okay.” 

The arm around him tightened. Dick always liked the way Clark smelled, like sweat and gasoline. Dick wondered what he had been fixing. There were grease stains on his pants. 

Dick sat uncrying leaning against the man. He ran out of tears a long time ago. A month and half to be exact. 

“You hear from Wally today?” Clark’s thumb rubbed gentle circles into his shoulder, unknotting the damaged muscles in his injured shoulder. Dick held back a slight shudder as Clark’s thumb brushed against the scar from Joker’s bullet.

“Yeah, he’s back home. Said they were going to have a big lunch and then watch movies.”

“That sounds nice.” Clark said evenly as if trying to gauge how Dick felt about his best friend’s plans.

“We used to watch It’s a Wonderful Life.” Dick didn’t know why he said it. He had been doing his best to purge Bruce and Alfred from his mind. Maybe it was just the date. Holidays were hard. Dick knew that. He missed his mom and dad. But that had dulled over time. He hoped this would too. 

Clark’s thumb hesitated in it’s pattern. “Do you--”

“No.” Dick winced at his own shout. “Sorry I didn’t--”

Clark pulled him closer. “It’s okay. What about your parents? Did you do anything special with them?”

Dick shook his head. Even his family’s traditions felt tainted. 

Clark hummed into his hair, his lips just above his ear. “I want to ask you something, but I think it will upset you.”

Dick pulled away from Clark, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“Do you want to call him?”

Dick blinked. 

Did he? Want seemed such a complex word all of a sudden. Did he _want_ to call his -- Bruce. Yes. He wanted to hear the man’s voice. He wanted to be told that he was on his way and they would be home by dinner time. He wanted to hear the baritone rumble that was often a low hum. He wanted that familiar comfort, but he didn’t want it to be on the other end of the phone line. He _wanted_ to be home. He _wanted_ to be eight years old and best friends again, partners again. 

Dick didn’t _want_ to call him. He didn’t want to admit his weakness, his need for the man who rescued him all those years ago. 

He didn’t _want_ to talk to the man who had thrown him aside with no thought or care. He never _wanted_ to see him again, never hear the growling anger filled with disdain. He was still so angry. 

Want was too simple a word. 

“No.” Dick’s voice shook. He tried to focus on the feeling of Clark’s hand. Better that than the bubbling anger growing in his gut. 

“Okay. That’s fine. It’s also fine if you do, or change your mind later.” Clark smiled softly at him. 

The tension in his gut eased a bit. Clark was doing his best. Dick needed to try harder. Fixing a small smile on his face, he focused on a lamp beyond Clark’s shoulder. It was harder to lie when he was looking at the man. “I guess I could go to the markets… if you still wanted to go.”

Clark squeezed his shoulder and smiled more brightly at Dick. “Yeah, let me just tell Lois and we’ll head out. Can you get my coat for me?”

Dick nodded and peeled himself off of the sofa, making his way to the coat closet by the door. 

* * *

Dick didn’t perk up until they were half way across the Atlantic. Clark wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of flying or if it was just getting out of the house and off the farm for a bit. 

Dick had gone to stall after stall, pulling Clark with him. He chattered with vendors in German and what sounded like Dutch at times. Clark wasn’t really sure. Dick spoke more languages than even Bruce. 

By the time they made it home Clark would say that Dick was in a considerably better mood. But sometimes he felt unsure. Dick had always been a pro at hiding his emotions. 

They returned long after the sun had set. Clark could smell slightly burned potatoes and chicken when they reached the Kansas border. 

“You still hungry?” Clark shouted over the wind.

Dick tilted his head. “I threw up half of everything after trying that mint thing so yeah.” 

Clark rolled his eyes. Dick had been determined to try everything, even mint marshmallows dipped in chocolate, even though he always was sick when he ate them.

They landed softy on the porch and Dick bounded into the house to give Lois the pile of goods they had brought back. 

Clark waited outside the door. When Dick was out of sight, Clark pulled his phone from his pocket. He bit his lip looking at the uncleared notification from that morning. The call had been from a blocked and unknown number. But it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. That morning’s mystery caller had left no message. Clark had been in the barn when they called, his hands covered in engine grease. He let it go to voicemail. Not that Bruce had left a message. 

He could hear Lois laughing as she thanked Dick for the hot chocolate mixing sticks he had gotten her. 

Dick was finally in a better mood, or at least it looked that way. Clark didn’t want to ruin that. Dick hadn’t been lying either when he told him early that he didn’t want to talk to Bruce. Frowning Clark put the phone back in his pocket. 

After dinner they put on an old movie-- not It's a Wonderful Life-- some classic that Dick hadn’t ever seen. About half way through the film Dick excused himself and wondered up to his room.

Lois’s eyes followed him all the way up the stairs. Clark loved that women. She hadn’t even batted an eye when Dick showed up bleeding and carrying a duffle bag. She pulled Clark aside and insisted that would do right by Dick, even if it meant Clark left the Justice League. It hadn’t come to that thank goodness. But Clark had indeed pulled back from the personal relationship he had formed with Batman. And if he was cold at meetings then it was nothing short of what Bruce deserved. But Lois had taken it to another level. 

Lois, it seemed, had made it her personal mission to give both Bruce Wayne and Batman hell. She had written several articles on the man in and out of the mask. Clark insured Dick never saw them. 

“Hey,” Lois nudged him and turned the movie to mute. “He say anything?”

Clark shook his head and pulled her over to him. “Bruce called.”

She shot up. “What? What did he say?” She twisted round to face him.

“Nothing. Well, I didn’t answer.”

Lois swore and leaned back against him. “Did you tell Dick?” 

“No. I asked him if he wanted to call and talk to Bruce but he said he didn’t.”

“Clark,” She said exasperatedly. “That’s not the same thing.”

He frowned, twisting his fingers into her long hair. “What do you mean?”

“It just isn’t. He doesn’t want to make the first move. _And_ he shouldn’t have too--” She cut Clark’s half formed response with a wave of her hand. “But if Bruce called him. That’s different.”

“He didn’t though. He called me.”

She shrugged. “That's a start, I guess.”

* * *

Dick lay staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Christmas Eve. His first without Bruce in ten years. There was no orange duck, or soft ring of church bells from the city. There was just Dick and the empty room. 

He had enjoyed the afternoon with Clark, but he still felt like something was missing. He pretended not to notice when Clark had slipped away at the market. Superman had been seen saving a family from a tower block fire in Germany, or so the news reported. He knew Clark was trying to be sensitive, but this odd dance they were doing was frustrating. 

But now laying in the quiet of his borrowed room, he let the feeling of envy wash over him. It hurt too much to not help. He had been contemplating it for months. He couldn’t sit on the sidelines. Rolling over he plucked his phone from the bed stand. 

“‘Lo?” Wally mumbled half asleep. 

“Hey.” Now that he had decided he didn’t know what to say. 

“Dick?” Wally suddenly sounded much more alert. “You okay, Man?”

Dick hummed reassuringly. “I… I don’t want to go back to school.”

Dick bit his lip waiting for Wally’s response. Bruce would have snorted and told him tough luck. 

“That’s okay. Do you know what you want to do instead?”

“I want to be…” The name Robin died on his tongue. No. That wasn’t right. Not anymore. He couldn’t be Robin, but something else. A solo act. “I’m not retiring.”

Wally sighed. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. What about during the day?”

Dick blinked. He was good at a lot of things. He could handle computers, or work at a gym maybe. But did he want that?

No. He had seen Bruce live that way. Hating his day life, and just playing a part. Dick didn’t want to be like that. He wanted to always be trying to make a difference. To help. To bad a full time hero wasn’t an option. 

“I’m not sure, I just want to help people...” Dick’s phone buzzed and he glanced down at the text. 

Barbara. He hadn’t spoken to her since he left Gotham. Just another bridge the Bruce had burned. Batgirl was still Batgirl. While of course he didn’t blame Babs, it was a struggle to talk to her. He opened the message. 

_Merry Christmas from the Gordans_!

Babs had sent a picture of her and her dad dressed in matching elves hats. Babs’ hair was pulled up into a messy bun and Jim was still half in his uniform. 

Uniform. 

Jim. 

Dick didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Jim was a hero in his own way. The way he was cleaning up Gotham PD, was nothing short of miraculous. Batman and Robin could only do so much. Having Jim on their team had been essential. The inside man of sorts. Dick had no other obligations. He was a lone man now, no school to stop him, no family. The mission was all he had left.

Dick had the chance to do both. He could be on the inside of the system and out. He had the chance to make sweeping changes without relying on a partner. Partner. That word stung. No, Dick didn’t think he would be ready for that ever. Team sure, but partner that would take time. If he did this he wouldn’t have to find someone to rely on. He could find the intel himself. 

“Dick?” Wally’s voice sounded far off. Dick’s head was spinning with ideas. It was like his mind had been turned off for months and someone had just flipped the switch. 

“Wally, I think I want to be a cop.”


	2. Pushing Through Inertia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not totally happy with this. The scene I was planing just didn't happen. So there will be one more chapter. 
> 
> So please enjoy my scribbles. As always it is delightful to hear from you.

The initial pull is the hardest part

To force myself in a different direction

* * *

Dick didn’t sleep. If Santa was waiting for him to conk out to deliver presents, he would have to double up next year. Dick was up to his elbows in police academy forms. He had picked out seven cities where he could potentially operate. New York, Boston, San Francisco, Bludhaven, Denver, Steel City or Calvin City. 

Each had a gap where a new vigilante could have a positive impact on the city. They also had notable police forces that needed cleaning up. Dick filled out applications to each of their academies. He also retrieved from Clark’s childhood closet a sketchpad where he had begun outlining some new suit ideas. This was even more difficult than looking at potential cities. Robin had first been a homage to his family uniform. Then it was a brand. The costume changed but kept the same basic design for years. Dick was now starting from scratch. 

Scraps of paper lay crumpled at the foot of the bed. Dick closed his eyes. He needed to break it down. What did he need? He needed some sort of utility belt. But a belt would also limit his range of motion. A holster maybe?

Then there was the cape. Dick frowned. He had complained about it for years, but never considered scraping it. How many times had he been held back by it? He felt sick thinking about it, what just a scrap of cloth had meant.

_ “Dick?” Bruce raised his eyebrow looking down at his small charge. “What are you doing?” _

_ “I’m you.” Dick held the yellow fabric that Alfred had used to trim his tunic, across his face dramatically. “I’m Batman.” He growled playfully. _

_ Bruce snorted, “looking good, Chum.” _

That was all it took. Just three words. Dick hated his younger self. He had been so quick to seek Bruce’s approval. He hadn’t even really wanted the cape. But it had quickly been added, as Dick was charmed by his new guardian’s smile. Back then he had wanted to be just like him. Sure the cape had been practical for keeping him warm, or creating air resistance. But it had just as many-- if not more-- shortcomings. It limited his range of motion in the air, It slowed him down. Yet Dick had never considered redesigning his uniform without it. 

The cape was like some unspoken agreement. The something they both had. Sure his cape wasn’t near what Batman’s had been but… it had been there as a silent homage to his partner. 

Batman and Robin the caped crusaders. 

Well he would never be that again. They would never… Dick felt his eyes burning. 

No, Dick wouldn’t have a cape. 

He pulled the paper back towards him and began to outline a more dynamic uniform. It would be completely him this time. Free from both the burden of his parents and Bruce. For wasn’t that what Robin had been? Just a kid clinging to the life he once had while simultaneously shoehorning himself into Bruce’s world. 

This time he would just be himself.

The real question was who was Dick Grayson?

* * *

Clark woke to the sound of graphite scraping against paper. With his eyes still closed he let the sound wash over him. Short choppy strokes across the soft fibers. Not printer paper. That would have sounded harder. The sound was coming from Dick’s room. Clark wondered what he could be drawing. Lois mumbled next to him, her arm swinging out and smacking him. 

“Lo,” Clark waited for her garbled response. “Lo. Merry Christmas.” 

In lieu of answering Lois sat up, and looked around. “Coffee. Christmas doesn’t start until coffee.”

Clark chuckled and slipped out of bed. He paused outside Dick’s door as he made his way to the kitchen. After a moment’s hesitation, he knocked. “Dick?”

The door swung open at his touch. Dick neither looked surprised or startled by Clark’s intrusion. 

“Morning.” Dick muttered his eyes still fixed on the sketchbook balanced across his knees. 

“I’m gonna start the coffee and breakfast. You want anything in particular?”

Dick looked up and set the book down. “I’ll come down and help, I wanted to talk to you this morning before everyone gets here anyway.”

Clark forced his smile to remain fixed on his face. There was something new in Dick’s voice that hadn’t been there the night before. It was something that he had heard before, but Clark couldn’t place it. “Sure. But we better hurry, Lois is a beast before coffee.”

Clark couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety that dogged him as he and Dick made their way down the old wooden steps to the kitchen. Clark had flipped the coffee pot on, and had begun frying eggs, before Dick spoke. 

Dick twirled, the butter knife he held as he watched over the bread in the toaster. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do.” 

Clark didn’t look up from the eggs.  _ Decided _ . Clark realized what he had heard in Dick’s voice. Conviction. Whatever Dick was going to do there was to be no debate. Clark was to accept it. Superman steeled himself. It was hard to love so freely sometimes. Especially someone like Dick Grayson. “Yeah?”

Clark turned to face him. He would be proud of the young man before him no matter what he chose.

“I’m not retiring.” Dick still was staring at the toaster, as if afraid of Clark's reaction. 

He likely was, Clark reasoned. “Okay.”

Dick’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. 

In that moment Clark felt his heart break a little. Despite months of reassuring Dick that he would accept whatever he decided to do, the boy hadn’t ever really believed him. 

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” Clark waited for a long moment wondering if that was it. Had Dick felt this single sentiment needed a private audience?

“I… Wow. Sorry I just am used to having to fight for…” Dick trailed off, and Clark turned back to the eggs, allowing Dick a moment. 

“Is that all?” Clark suddenly wondered if Dick had been drawing a new uniform. He couldn’t imagine what Robin would look like outside of Batman’s city. 

“Well. Err no. I’m going to apply to be a cop.” 

Clark stiffened slightly. Dick was decided he reminded himself. No matter how much he would worry, Clark needed to accept this fait accompli. Sure it scared him when Dick went out at night, and it would equally terrified him that he was out during the day now too, But it was his choice. Dick may have been human in the fullest of since, but he was also one of the most capable heroes he knew. 

“Okay.” Clark put the eggs on a plate. “Do you… Do you know where?” Clark wondered if it would be too much to hope for if he would move to Metropolis. 

“I’m going to apply to a couple of places, but I’m leaning towards New York or Bludhaven.” Dick’s hands were steady as he spread butter over the toast. 

Clark frowned. Both cities were-- well they were rife with crime. Clark could see exactly how Dick had landed on them as being good places to take up his solo hero gig. Clark feared for a moment that Dick was going to bite off more than he could chew. “Dick, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.” 

Dick stiffened, his knuckles going white around the butter knife. 

Clark bite back a sigh.  _ Great, way to put your foot in it, Kent. _ “I think you're going to be a great cop and hero.” The words came out in a rush. Clark needed to fix this before he upset the kid and made him feel even more alienated.

Dick’s stance relaxed a fraction. 

“I just want you to know. You don’t have anything to prove.” Clark placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and pulled him around to face him. 

“I don’t--”

“I mean,” Clark cut him off. “To me. I know you're amazing. It’s been obvious since you were nine. I just want you to know if you don’t have to try and…” Clark searched for a word to explain. 

“Clark?” Dick’s eyes were fixed on him. It felt like he was the one who could see through  _ him _ .

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it. I just…” Clark huffed in frustration. Why was it so hard to explain. He wasn’t Bruce. He would never turn this boy away. He wanted to make sure Dick knew that. 

“What he’s trying to say,” Lois rolled her eyes as she shuffled into the kitchen, her slippers slapping the ground as they went. “You’re amazing and we’re very proud of you, Dick. Just don’t forget to call and come home, okay? And if you need us for anything-- I mean anything, girl advice, laundry, or help with a case-- you ask us.” 

Clark smiled at Lois, grateful that she knew how to cut through his mess and understand him completely. 

Dick was looking at her with an odd expression. 

“What she said.” Clark pulled Dick to him and held him until Dick finally pulled away. 

“I mean it too. If you don’t call us, I’m sending him to get you.” Lois shook her teaspoon at Dick flinging drops of coffee everywhere. 

* * *

Dick wasn’t sure what he had expected. Certainly not this. Dick moved through the morning in a constant state of disbelief. Clark had said… He just said  _ okay _ . That was it. There had been no argument. No short handed remarks about not thinking things through. Lois had gone even further, and told him he was welcome back even after he left. An open door. Dick didn’t understand it. Well he did, but somehow it didn’t feel real. It was like waking up with a stuffy nose and every other sense was working in overdrive to make up for the shortage. It was like his mind had disconnected with his body. 

He ate his food mechanically. He tidied his room, and put hay out with Clark. He moved and walked and talked, but his mind was still stuck.  _ Okay _ . Had that really happened? 

“Dick?”

He spun around startled by Clark's silent approach. “Yeah?”

“You okay? You’ve been kinda out of it this morning.” Clark was looking at him with those big blue eyes that could see right through him. 

“Yeah. I… I’m just processing I guess.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know the first Christmas always kinda sucks.”

Dick blinked. Then it hit him. Christmas. Right. It felt like all the wind was pulled from his lungs by a vacuum. He had been so consumed by his new purpose that he-- well not really forgot, that was impossible with the tree up, the music and snow-- but hadn’t realized. 

“Dick, I know you said you didn’t want to call him yesterday, but I just wanted you to know. I got a call from him. I didn’t answer, and he didn’t leave a message. But he did call.” Clark had a worry line forming between his eyebrows. 

Dick felt like he had forgotten to breathe.  _ He called. _ A hopeful voice whispered. _ No. He called Clark _ . Dick shook his head.  _ You blocked him remember? _ The voice countered.  _ He had. _ Dick thought. Bruce’s only way to contact him was indeed Clark. But did that matter? Did he want to answer? 

_ No _ . He realized. He didn’t want to. He was tired of fighting all the time. He was tired of trying and trying but never being enough. This morning had been a revelation. He didn’t have to fight any more. Not to be himself a least. 

“No. I don’t.” Dick looked at Clark waiting to see the look of disappointment in his eyes. It didn’t come. 

“Okay. No problem. I just thought I would make sure.” Clark smiled and grabbed the last hay bale. 

Christmas day was a whirlwind. The Kents had tradition after tradition. They sang carols and watched Miracle on 34th Street. They decorated cookies and went sledding. It wasn’t until Dick sat at the kitchen island hands wrapped around a hot drink that he was hit with another wave of hurt. 

It was stupid. It was a drink. It was milk and sugar and chocolate. Dick never had a problem with them individually. Why was the combination so hard? Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hear Alfred hum as he bustled around the kitchen. He wanted to feel Bruce suddenly hug him from behind. He wanted his da-- no. 

Stop. Dick put his mug of coco down. He could feel Clark’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t look back. If he did, he would fall. Dick was tired of falling. Clark had been his safety-net for months. Dick just needed a moment. Without a word Dick slipped past the family out into the cold air. 

Snow was still falling. The whole countryside was covered in a coat of white. It looked like a strange alien world. The grass that slumbered under the frost lay forgotten amongst the strange blanket. Dick wished he could too lay forgotten. Wished he could put his past down and be reborn, clean. To be free from the baggage that was his past.

His pocket buzzed. Tearing his eyes away from the white world before him, he glanced at the screen. Wally. 

Dick sighed. He wondered if Clark had texted him. 

“Hey.”

“Merry Christmas, man!” Wally all but shouted in his ear. 

“Merry Christmas, Wals” Dick rolled his eyes, he could hear Wally practically vibrating on the other end of the line. 

“How's it going?” 

Dick looked around all too aware of Clark's super hearing. “It’s good. Everyone's great, I just am… I miss them. Stupid right?”

Wally sucked in a breath. “No. It’s not stupid. Dick they were your family for years. It’s not wrong to miss them.”

Dick laughed darkly. “No, Wally. They weren’t. Not really. At least I wasn’t to them.” Dick wondered if Wally was pinching his nose listening to him. He did that a lot, as if it would somehow give him patience to put up with his slightly insane best friend. 

“Dick, we're going to have to agree to disagree. On another note, have you thought more about what we talked about last night?”

Dick frowned. Wally hadn’t been unsupportive of his decision, more disappointed that Dick wouldn’t be joining him at college. 

“I mean, you’re still going to come to the tour right? I swear if you don’t like it I’ll never bring it up again. I just was kinda excited about possibly rooming together.” Wally’s words came out in a rush. 

“Yeah. I’ll still do the tour, but I really want to do this, Wal.” Dick slumped against the porch railing. 

“And that’s totally cool. I just miss you.” 

Dick bit his lip. He knew Wally wasn’t trying to talk him out of it. But it still felt like it. Dick didn’t realize how used to have to fight for what he wanted to do himself, until Clark had simply accepted his choice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hate how this chapter ended but I'm hoping that I can make my thoughts finally come together.


	3. Objects in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be the final chapter for this one. I've decided to do the other Christmases in this series separate. They may just be one shots each. So anyway, I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are as always treasured.

I am the sum of applied force.

The harder you press the higher I’ll soar

* * *

Clark could hear the slight wobble in Dick’s voice as he spoke. He wondered if asking Wally to check on him had been a miss step. His heart rate was more elevated then it had been before the phone call. Still he didn’t dare interrupt it now. 

Dick didn’t return until half an hour after he and Wally hung up. By the time he came in he was shivering and looked flushed. Clark didn’t even have the chance to force him into a sweater, before his mother was pushing hot tea with honey into his hands and tugging him over to the crackling fire. 

“Honestly, I would have thought you would know better.” She tutted as she plied Dick with a thick, hand stitched quilt. Clark thought it had been made by his great grandmother but he couldn’t remember now. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Kent.” Dick smiled around his tea cup. 

“Oh, never you mind.” Even Mom it seemed was not invulnerable to a Grayson smile. “We still need to do stockings before dinner.” She bustled off without a backwards glance to retrieve her stockings. 

Clark and Lois quickly joined the others around the fire for stockings. Mom would fill homemade stockings with treats and small bits every year for them to enjoy. When Clark was young she and his dad pretended the stockings were filled by Santa, but now that everyone in the house was older she just would give them out herself without the pretence. Though Clark wondered if his mom would believe Dick if he told her about the time he met Santa. Clark certainly hadn’t, at least until he saw Bruce’s nodded confirmation that they had in fact met Saint Nick in Gotham when Dick was ten. 

When Dick was handed his stocking he stared at it for a long moment and Clark wondered if something was wrong. Then he saw it. The slight build up of water in the boy’s eyes. 

“Mrs. Kent,” Dick’s voice came out quiet and cracked. “Thank you. I … Thank you.” 

Clark watched his mother closely. He could tell that she was moved by the genuine gratitude for something so simple. She hide her emotions well. “Oh, don’t you bother. I have more fun putting them together than anything.” She waved her hand dismissing her thoughtfulness as nothing out of the ordinary. 

Clark would have to remember to thank her later. One for making Dick’s addition to the holiday so completely normal. She acted as if he had always been there and that there was nothing extra special about his presence. And for quickly making Dick’s stocking the week before, when Dick had finally decided that he wouldn’t be joining Wally for Christmas. 

After the stockings were all opened, Lois and Martha moved to the kitchen-- not that Lois was doing any of the cooking. She would burn the house down and the turkey and ham would still be raw somehow. 

“Erm. Clark?” Dick was still sitting next to the fire. The quilt was now folded up and placed over the back of the chair rather than on his lap. 

Pulling his mind away from images of Lois destroying the house, Clark smiled softly at Dick. “Yeah?”

“I… Well I was wondering if you would mind if I put you down on the Academy forms as my emergency contact?” Dick looked into the dregs of his tea as he spoke.

Clark’s eyes widened a fraction. 

“I can ask Wally. Sorry. That was--” Dick seemed to register his surprise and spoke in a rush. 

“Dick. Of course you can put me down.” Clark tried to force himself to smile, but if he did Dick would know it was fake. And he would think it was fake because he was an inconvenience. Which was the furthest from the truth. Clark couldn’t smile, because suddenly he was imagining a phone call telling him that Dick Grayson was dead. Clark would have to work on shaking that from his mind. Dick didn’t need his fears. Dick needed his support. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Are you kidding? I want to know if you so much as get a headache.”

Dick flushed slightly. “Clark, I’m don’t need--”

“--I know I know.” Clark cut him off before he could get too upset. “I meant that I care and want to know about stuff, not that you need my help with everything.” 

Dick deflated. “Sorry. I--”

“Dick, really it’s okay. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. I’m not Batman.”

Dick went rigid, and Clark wondered if he had finally pushed him too far. He had dealt with angry outbursts and tears, he had seen screaming and sobbing. But Robin had yet to break. 

Clark waited, unsure if he should speak, if he should back pedal. 

“I know.” Dick pursed his lips. “It’s just hard to… separate. I’m used to B’s particular brand of--” Dick sucked in a breath. 

Clark frowned but didn’t say anything. He knew what Dick had been about to say-- parenting. To be honest Clark didn’t know what to say to Dick half the time. Clark had had an incredible dad. Sure they had fought at times, but never had Clark felt _unwanted_. 

Dick shifted uncomfortably for a moment. “Errmm, there were some questions on the forms that I didn’t know what to put.” 

Clark smiled. “Why don’t you go get them and we can go through them together. I’m sure if we can figure it out.”

Dick was up the stairs in the blink of an eye. His socked feet barely left a sound as he moved across even the creaky steps. Clark still marveled at his ability to silence his steps like that. He had to hover slightly to be even remotely as quiet. 

He returned with a thick stack of papers and an old black pen that Clark recognized as being from the manor. 

Clark reached forward and took the stack, “alrighty, lets see what we’ve got.”

“It’s mostly insurance and stuff like that.” Dick looked sheepishly as he sunk down on the sofa next to Clark.

“Well, you’re on my Daily Planet plan, so I can fill that all out.”

Dick’s head tiled a fraction. 

Clark gave a rueful smile at the unasked question. “I added you after you had been here a week. I figured you didn’t want to have to put up with me and Lo taking your stitches out.” 

“I thought that…” Dick shook his head slightly. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back--”

“Dick. It’s not about money. You don’t own me anything.” Clark thumbed his way through the papers. Most of the questions had been filled out, but Clark still hesitated over several of the questions Dick had filled in.

_Family: None._

_Education: Gotham Academy 4.5 GPA_

_Health conditions: None_

_Family medical history: Unknown_

_Dependence: None_

Clark did his best not to react to the lack of connections Dick Grayson appeared to have on paper. Clark gestured for the pen and began writing his and Lois’s details under emergency contact and next of kin on each and every form. He even wrote his mother’s details under the secondary contact. Lois would of course do whatever was needed if he was off planet for some reason, but it never hurt to have a back up for the back up. It was something Batma--

Clark stilled, his hand still hovering over the paper. 

“What?” Dick craned his neck to look at what Clark was writing?

“Nothing.” Clark shook his head. “I just was reading your response to the scenario questions. They’re really good.” 

If Dick could tell he was lying then he said nothing. Simply pulled the form Clark had finished out of his hands and began copying the details on to the others. 

They sat like that for a long moment, just the sound of the pen scraping across the paper. 

“Dick?” Clark scanned the application in front of him. “Why does this say you have a juvie record?”

Dick didn’t even glance up. “Because if they run a background check they'll see I spent a month there. So I figured It was better to be up front. I wrote a note on the extra comments section at the back.”

Clark looked at the boy in pure confusion. Bruce would have never let Dick get arrested, so it must have been from when he was with the circus. He flipped back to the comments section, curiosity getting the best of him. 

_My stint at the Gotham’s Juvenile Center for Boys was due to lack of space in the foster care system. I spent a total of twenty seven days there until I was placed in a foster home following the death of my parents. I was not held for any offence and the time at the facility was only a matter of a shortage in housing space for the city. This can be confirmed by my social worker that I had for the duration of my time in the Gotham foster system, Susan Peires. Who can be contacted by--_

Clark reread the paragraph. No. That was… Clark suddenly felt the need to pull Dick into a bear hug. Dick was eight when his parents died. How had he never asked? Clark had always assumed that Bruce had just taken the boy home after his parents had died. He never thought to ask. 

A new depth to the pain Dick must be feeling at Bruce’s rejection settled in Clark’s gut. How could the same man who pulled Dick from a failed system, fail him in much the same way?

“Dick?” Clark wondered if it would upset him to talk about it?

“Hmm?” Dick was writing Clark's insurance number on the last form.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know… I’m sorry I was so… I yelled at Bruce when he took you in.” Clark ducked down ashamed at his assumption. 

Dick laughed. 

Clark twisted around at the sound. He hadn’t heard it in so long. Sure Dick would smile and snort, but he hadn’t really laughed. 

“Clark, it’s not a big deal. I know how it looked. _Batman kidnaps young boy and indoctrinates him into crime fighting_.” Dick made air quotes with his hands as he spoke. “I mean I've heard it all. Not many expect an eight year old to break out of juvie to hunt down his parents killer night after night, until he runs into Batman.”

Clark stared at the boy next to him and wondered how Bruce could have ever thought that firing Dick would stop him. 

Clark held up the papers that Dick and him had finished filling out. “Well _whatever_ city you move to will be lucky to have Robin to protect them.”

Dick set the papers down and stood up abruptly. He strode over to the mantle and leaned down, his forehead pressed onto the aging wood. 

Clark wondered what he had said wrong. 

“I’m not going to be Robin.” Dick spoke into the mantle. 

Clark’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“Robin was… Robin was me holding on to my past. I called myself that because it was what Zucco took from me. I don’t… I’m not that eight year old anymore. Robin will always be that kid looking to find justice for his parents. I’m not looking for that anymore.” Dick sank back into the chair by the fire and looked at Clark, his eyes searching Clark’s for understanding.

Clark didn’t know why he hadn’t asked him earlier. When Dick had told him he wasn’t retiring he just assumed. He hadn’t thought Dick would want to be something else entirely. 

“I want to just… I need a fresh start.” Dick said almost to himself. 

Clark smiled, he could understand that. The need to reinvent yourself. Wasn’t that what becoming Superman had been. Finally he had let himself be the part of himself that he had kept hidden his whole life. 

“You want to be something that isn’t connected to Bruce.” Clark watched Dick carefully.

It hadn’t been a question so Dick said nothing.

Clark knew it didn’t matter what Dick called himself. He would be great. “You remind me of an old Kryptonian legend. This god-- I guess his name would translate to Nightwing.” Clark looked into the embers of the fire. “He was cast out by his family--”

Dick stiffened.

But Clark kept talking, “and so Rao tasked him to roam the shadows hunting for those who were evil and would hurt the innocent. He became a hero of such renown that even though Nightwing was forbidden to walk amongst the gods he was honored all over Krypton.” 

“What happened to him?” Dick’s head was tilted slightly.

“Eventually he was transformed into a bird by Rao and given the task of transforming the Krypton after it was destroyed by Flamebird. They became an endless cycle of destruction and rebirth.” Clark could almost see gears turning behind Dick’s eyes.

“No.” Dick hesitated, “I mean did his family… realize their mistake?” 

Clark could hear Dick’s heart beating. It was slow, unafraid. Clark met his gaze and held it. “Does it matter?”

Dick was silent for a long moment, he didn’t flinch or look away. “No. it doesn’t.”

They stayed like that until Lois called them to eat, just sat next to the glowing embers. 

* * *

They were half way through opening presents when Clark’s phone went off. He glanced at it and stiffened. 

Unknown Caller.

He silenced the phone, and let it go to voicemail. Clark would deal with it later. It was family time, he reasoned. And Dick had been clear on his feelings anyway. It was to the boy next to him his loyalties needed to lie. Clark left the phone for the rest of the evening. 

It was near midnight before he considered it again. Clark listened to the even breathing of his mother asleep upstairs. She had been the first to retire for the night. Eventually Dick had followed-- apparently he had pulled an all nighter. Clark didn’t blame him for turning in at an unusually early hour-- for Dick at least. But it wasn’t until Lois trudged up the steps that Clark pulled his phone out. He stared at the notification for a long time. 

Again there was no voicemail. 

Clark sighed. This would be a hard conversation. Clark had avoided Bruce rather actively for the past two months. He had bolted at the end of meetings and pointedly directed any comments he had to either Diana or another member of the league during meetings. He hadn’t done more than text the man the night Dick showed up. Even that had been short. 

_I’ve got him. Don’t call._

Clark had plenty he wanted to say to the man. He hadn’t though, if only out of respect for Dick. But this was _twice_ he had called. And Clark knew that it had to be dealt with. One way or another. If Dick didn’t want to talk to him then that was fine. Clark didn’t mind. He would shield him from the whole world if he wanted him to. 

He hit redial, before he could chicken out and just ignore the missed call all together. 

“Hello?” Bruce sounded breathless.

“Hey.” Clark wondered what the man expected him to say.

The silence stretched for a long time, but for once Clark felt no need to break it for the other man. He would have to grow used to this discomfort. His dad had always told Clark growing up that actions had consequences and well-- if this didn’t deserve a consequence then Clark didn’t know what else would. 

“Is he…” Bruce sighed. Clark could picture him, sat at his desk running a calloused hand across his face. “Is he staying with you still?”

Clark licked his lips. Was it a betrayal to answer? Or maybe one if he didn’t. Bruce had been a friend. Hadn’t he? “Yeah. He’s still with us.”

Clark could hear Bruce’s breath on the other end of the line. It was shallow, as if he was being careful to control it. “How… How is he?”

Clark wasn’t sure how to answer that. Not completely. “He’s Dick. Tied together with a smile.”

Bruce huffed. “Yeah. Is his shoulder--”

“He’s fine, Bruce.” Clark said quietly. 

Bruce stayed silent on the other end, as if waiting for Clark to yell at him. 

Suddenly all the anger that Clark had held for the man seemed to drain away. Too many times had they sat together after a mission tied and bleeding. Too many times Clark had seen Bruce raw and vulnerable to hate the man. Even though Clark had chosen his side, he still couldn’t bring himself to hate the man who was once not only a comrade but a friend. Dick wouldn’t want him to anyway. How many times had Dick defined the man, even after all he had done. 

Clark could bend. Just a little. “I took him to Germany yesterday.”

Bruce exhaled slightly. It wasn’t loud or particularly noticeable, but Clark understood. “He always loved the markets. I hope you didn’t let him have the mint marshmallows; they always make him sick.”

Clark smiled. “Yeah, I know. He still ate them though.” 

“He’s stubborn like that.”

Clark waited. Perhaps he wouldn’t ask. Maybe Bruce would just hang up and Clark wouldn’t have to refuse. 

“Could I speak to him, Clark?” Bruce’s voice was barely a whisper. 

Closing his eyes he answered, “No.”

Across the country Bruce's heart speed up. 

“I asked him earlier and…” Clark wondered if Bruce and Dick had shattered beyond repair this time. “Do you want me to tell him anything?” 

Clark hoped Bruce would beg forgiveness. That he would tell him he needed Clark to drag Dick out of bed so that he could apologize. Clark wanted this to be one of those times when Dick stormed off only to have Bruce trailing after him with endless ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘Chum, I was upset and not meaning what I said’s. But Clark knew this wasn’t one of those times. 

From the first week Dick had stayed with him, he knew that this time was different. It hadn’t been _just_ a fight. After months of watching Batman from a distance and Dick in his own home, he didn’t think even he could glue them back together. 

“No, no. I-- this is better. I just want him to be safe.” Bruce’s voice cracked. “That's all, Clark.” 

Clark froze. “That ship sailed a long time ago, Bruce.”

He could hear Bruce’s teeth grinding together. “He can have a normal life now. I should have done this a long time ago. You know how dangerous it is out there.” Bruce hissed into the phone. 

The remnants of affection he still felt for the man seemed to vanish. “You’re an idiot. I can’t even begin to tell you how far wrong you are on this. You were _partners_. Half the league works alone. Robin had _you_. Maybe it wasn’t perfect. It was still dangerous but--” Clark pinched his nose in frustration. “Bruce, this is going to be your biggest regret.”

“He’s _safe_. That’s all that matters.” Bruce’s voice was thick. 

Clark wondered if he was crying. He had never seen Bruce cry. He glanced at the coffee table. A stack of papers were neatly piled there. Bludhaven Police Academy was printed on the form lying on top. Clark could still smell the link from the pen Dick had used to fill out the forms. And upstairs next to Dick’s bed was a sketchbook. Clark didn’t need x-ray vision to know what it contained. 

Bruce hadn’t protected him by firing him. Clark wondered what Bruce would do if he knew. Would he break? Would it kill him to know he had destroyed everything for _nothing_?

Bruce had trained the very best. He might not have created Robin, but he had equipped him. Clark knew he was a fool to delude himself into thinking that Dick would ever just walk away. It wasn’t in the boy’s nature. 

Clark _had_ secretly hoped Wally would be able to convince Dick to retire. But Dick had been in the game longer than almost anyone. Retirement wasn’t his style. 

The silence stretched on between them. If Clark told Bruce what Dick’s plan was, what would he do? Would he panic and try and bring Dick back to the manor? Would he sabotage Dick’s applications? No. Clark decided. Bruce Wayne had lost his ability to have a say in Dick’s life. Besides, it wasn’t Clark’s place to tell Bruce. The man would find out eventually. But it wouldn’t be from him. 

Clark sighed. “No one’s ever safe, Bruce. You of all people should know that.”

Bruce didn’t so much as breathe.

“I’ve got to go. Merry Christmas, Bruce.” Clark hung up before he could respond. No. Clark knew, nothing Bruce did or said mattered. Some things couldn’t be stopped. And when Dick Grayson decided what he wanted to do, not even the universe could prevent it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time picking what Nightwing lore to use for this. I ended up going with a bit of a mix, because there is a couple different stories about the Krypton legend. But a lot of the conversation between Dick and Clark, including the asking about whether or not Nightwing's family ever regretted their decision, was pulled from Nightwing #102. 
> 
> I just have a lot of feelings about Dick deciding it didn't matter of Bruce ever came around, because it he wanted to do it anyway.


End file.
